We Don't Want To Go Home
by katherinelindfors96
Summary: "Only a fool believes in eternal glory, and eternal peace." / In her seventh year at Hogwarts, Clarke Griffin is forced to make a few choices she never expected after she learns that the Death Eaters didn't really die out after the death of Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts AU. Bellarke. REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

"It's just a small get together, Clarke Elizabeth, I don't know why you're getting so aggressive." Abigail Griffin's words sounded like a low hiss and for a second, Clarke wondered if her mother was speaking English. Either way, her words were filled with annoyance and irritation. Clarke wasn't under the impression that her question warranted such reaction, but her mother often equated questions concerning her actions as acts of aggression and defiance.

The two women, alike in looks but so different in personality, stood in the heavily decorated "ballroom" of Chase Manor. It was the home her mother grew up in, but Clarke was less familiar with the place due to the fact that the family only moved nearly three years ago and Clarke spent ten months out of the year at school. She felt out of place surrounded by the gray-scale of the manor.

Her mother was in the middle of one of her famous projects. Clarke often called those "projects" distractions, though. Abigail Griffin was never much for party planning when her husband was alive.

Her most recent distraction was planning a "coming-of-age" celebration for Clarke. It wasn't something Clarke wanted or asked for, but she found that arguing with her mother was far more exhausting than attending the event itself. Abigail was spending a small fortune on the dinner, though. That was obvious by the talking serpent statues she bought custom order from an odd shop in Knockturn Alley. Clarke supposes her opinion of the statues was a bit biased but they had almost made her fall down the steps that morning when they told her she was not permitted to leave the house.

Her mother also tore a page out of Hogwarts book and spelled nearly a thousand candles to float around the room, complementing the midnight blue of the ballroom ceiling. She couldn't imagine how much time and money the witch had spent on those particular decorations.

Still, Clarke could tell that the most expensive purchase was a solid marble table that spread out the length of the ballroom. It was black with gray wispy swirls with a large snake and skull emblem in the middle. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but it was probably some ancient Slytherin symbol for all she knew. It's not like she ever read _Hogwarts: A History Edition Two_ like her boyfriend, Bellamy Blake, is always telling her to do.

Clarke placed her hand on the cool table but then her mother looked at her sternly so she removed it quickly. After a moment of fiercely polishing away Clarke's fingerprints, her mother cleared her throat and said, "Now, I'm not going to tell you again, get dressed. It would be an embarrassment if our friends were to arrive early and the guest of honor was still wearing her dirty Quidditch uniform."

She looked down at her uniform and frowned. It was quite dirty. Clarke was wearing the green and white sweater despite the heat of summer, and she was surprised her mother didn't say anything about it. It wasn't an Abigail's nature to question what Clarke was doing when she was in the middle of something she deemed "more important" and Clarke would be lying if she said she didn't like that. It made it easy to spend time with her friends.

And anyway, it wasn't like she was doing something illegal this time she went out. She'd received an owl at precisely midnight that morning that told her to meet the usual gang on the coast of Ireland for a bit of Quidditch practice. Last year, there wasn't any Quidditch and the year before her House lost. So, she feels the need to make up for it. Unfortunately, most of her friends played for different houses so "practice" was typically less grueling.

"Who exactly has been invited to this _small_ get together, mother?" Abby must have sensed her distaste for the whole damn event because she gave Clarke a look that could kill. Abigail liked to tell Clarke that she was ungrateful for all the advantages she'd given her in life. She'd yet to realize that material items can't make up for a lack of emotional support and encouragement.

"Very important people. I've laid out a few of your best dresses upstairs. If you need any help, ask Morrow. I haven't done my hair yet." Her mother was already wearing a long, black gown with slits up the sides. Clarke didn't think it was her mother's style at all. Abigail typically liked to be the star of the show and display her gowns as if they were trophies for being rich. Clarke hoped her mother had laid out something just as simple so she didn't have to ask for Morrow's assistance.

Morrow was her mother's favorite house elf. The elf was loyal, and strict when it came to making sure her Mistress's rules were being followed. Clarke's father refused to allow Abigail to have house elves but after his passing, her mother said it was a necessity. Personally, Clarke didn't care much for Morrow. It wasn't because she was a house elf, more so that she looked at Clarke as if she were vermin. Especially in the last two years as if Morrow knew what Clarke was doing in her free time.

After a moment of debating whether she was going to start an argument about how ridiculous this whole event was, Clarke made the decision to go upstairs and do as she was told. While she walked, she had to batt away the candles that were so insistent on making sure she didn't get to the grand staircase that led to the second floor.

 _Bloody annoying,_ Clarke thought as she finally reached the top step and turned left. Her room was at the very end of the hall, past nearly a dozen rooms that were never used. In a way, it gave her a bit of distance away from her mother although she supposes it doesn't count because Abigail likes to rifle through her things whenever she gets the chance.

In all reality, Abby used it as a chance to complain about her daughter's room. Her mother desired it to look modern, whereas Clarke was still a teenager and wanted to express her individualism and display the things that made her happy. Her shelves held numerous trophies for her accomplishments at Hogwarts and she'd hung every formal picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team on her wall. There were only a few pictures of friends that she'd chosen with much thought. The other pictures, and there were quite a bit, were in a private vault at Gringotts along with the money her father had left her and the winnings of the Triwizard Tournament the year before.

She had a few secrets she wanted to keep from her mother and the only way to do so was to lock them below the Earth and hide the key.

Clarke started wondering what the coming year portrait would look like for Slytherin. They had to replace three people and she was also looking for her potential replacement for the next term. Seekers were the most difficult to replace. Since she was made team captain, she planned to hold trials the first weekend of the term so people could get settled. She also had no intentions of leaving out the first years like the captain her fourth year did. And, if someone who tried out happened to be better than the others on her team, she would be replacing people.

Deep in thought about potential practices and the things she'd learned over the summer by playing with her friends, she made her way to the washroom. Every time she looked at her tub, she thought longingly about the Prefect bath and some adventures she'd had in the confines.

A small note was placed on the edge of the sink. She immediately recognized the handwriting and her whole face lit up.

 _If you can, meet me at Jasper's house tonight. Yani has agreed to let me know if you can come or not._

 _B._

Her face was warm after the third time she read the letter. She imagines this is what young love is supposed to feel like. Giddiness on the verge of stupidity. Clarke reached for her wand and whispered " _Incindeo",_ watching the parchment burn. It would be the death of her if Abby ever found the secret letters her boyfriend delivers her.

She would have to thank Yani, maybe with a new hat or a sweater. Yani was the only free elf Clarke had ever met, and also the only elf that she knew that got paid for her work. Of course, Clarke was the one who paid Yani without her mother's knowledge but it was all the same. During the school term, Yani worked in the kitchens at Hogwarts where she also got paid by their generous Headmaster. It was something Clarke demanded because she couldn't stand the thought of Yani having to stay under the control of her _mother_ during the school year.

Her mother had a distaste for Yani because Yani's mother was "quite cruel" to Abby when she was younger. During Clarke's first Christmas at Chase Manor, Clarke made the _mistake_ of letting Yani free. She wasn't really aware of the rules that came with house elves, especially since her father had been vocal about _never_ having any in his home. Her mother was furious and chewed her out until she was back on the Hogwarts Express.

Looking the mirror after turning on the water, Clarke took a second to realize how disgusting she looked. Her hair was trying to curl because of the humidity of the coast and she was covered in dirt due to repeatedly being pushed off her broom by her own teammate, Nathan Miller. It was all in good fun and she was never hurt, but it was still mildly annoying.

She winced as she pulled off her uniform, feeling the sting of overexertion and a bit of of sunburn on her cheeks. Clarke knew that if she wanted to be her mother's ideal of formal beauty, she was going to have to spend a little time working with magic in the mirror. For starters, she would have to rub a mixture on her face that would make her sunburn ease up within ten minutes. Then, she would have to do something about her unruly hair and the bags under her eyes. If she was lucky, she would be able to do everything fairly quickly and then bewitch her makeup to put itself on.

Naturally, that was a difficult process but after three years she considers herself a master. Although, most of her makeup is extremely natural so very rarely has she had to readjust her spells.

She looked down at the red and gold necklace she wore beneath her clothes at all times. It was a gift from Bellamy. He gave it to her before they went on Christmas holiday the year before with red cheeks and a soft "shut up" under his breath because he thought she was laughing at him for being sentimental. Instead, she was laughing because her friends, Jasper and Monty, just made her try their new potion that was supposed to rival a joke shop built before the Second Wizard War.

He said it was supposed to give her luck during the Triwizard Tournament and the fact that she was alive was all the proof she needed of it working. Although, she knew it was just a necklace from a muggle shop that contained no magic whatsoever.

Clarke cursed under her breath for allowing herself to think of the tournament. It always caused goose pimples to rise on her arms and the hair of her neck to stand up. While reading a book on muggle medicine over the summer, she read that some people suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after horrible events. She doesn't know a lot about muggle medicine, but she's pretty sure they got that one right. Some nights, when she hasn't seen her friends for a few days or Abby's at work, she feels like there's someone screaming at the top of their lungs inside of her head.

To be honest, she hasn't gotten a full night's sleep since Headmaster Marcus Kane pulled her name out of the old goblet. Her mother was angry that she put her name in at first, saying that she was too young to be competing in such an idiotic competition. She also cursed the people in charge for allowing the age limit to be fourteen and up. But, when her mother realized how prestigious the win would be, she dropped all her arguments to get Clarke out of the tournament.

A few times, she's thought about reaching out to the other champions to see how they're doing. She just couldn't find the words or the motivation to recount what happened to them. They all walked away changed people. The Tournament forces you to look into your soul and realize what type of witch or wizard you want to be. If you're going to be good, or evil. In the end, she supposes no one is ever truly one or the other.

After her victory, it was revealed that the tournament had been rigged for a student from Durmstrang to be killed. It was his final year at the school and he had betrayed the headmaster, so he decided that Lincoln (the champion) should die. But, Lincoln was strong and ended up in second place. During the trials, Lincoln and her bonded over their general hatred for the entire event where she confessed the only reason she put her name in the Goblet was so her boyfriend's little sister's name would get lost in the mix.

She was only fourteen and there was no way Clarke was going to let her compete under the nose of her brother.

In the end, she's glad that Octavia isn't the one plagued with nightmares.

She can remember each challenge in perfect detail: the Dementors in challenge one, the person she loves convulsing in front of her after being coerced into taking a potion with the imperious curse in challenge two, and the moment she realized that she's not the good guy in challenge three.

It's Challenge Three that forces her out of sleep at all hours of the night, screaming at the top of her lungs and sobbing until she can see the break of light on the horizon. She doesn't know what she'll do when she has to go back to Hogwarts and share quarters with people again. She might have to brew a potion to sedate herself.

Clarke slipped into the steaming hot water of her bath and tried to summon happy thoughts so her mother wouldn't go ballistic.

Afterwards, she walked out of her bathroom with a fluffy robe on and got to work on her face. It didn't take nearly as long as she expected it to and pretty soon she was standing in front of her bed trying to decide what dress she was going to wear. Before her bath, she hadn't bothered to look at the minimal selection her mother laid out. She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Each dress was precisely the same but in different colors. Her options were green, black, or silver.

 _Fitting,_ Clarke thought to herself before she opted to wear the silver one.

They weren't simple like her mother's gown, rather they were heavily adorned with sparkling crystal. It was a rather tight fit on her curvy body but after a few minutes of squeezing herself into the gown, she managed to zip it with her wand. It showed her cleavage far more than she was comfortable with and she almost thought of wearing the dress she wore at the Yule Ball instead but she didn't want to hear her mother's disapproving speech.

While getting dressed, her eyes traveled to a rather large tattoo of a dark brown dog on her forearm. It was a spur of the moment decision after drinking far too much firewhiskey after the Tournament. Even weeks later, she hasn't found it in her to regret it. But, her mother was unaware of it's existence so she concealed it with a small spell and then checked her reflection in the full body mirror by her bed.

Where only moments ago, she had been looking at a seventeen year old school girl's reflection, she now saw a young woman. A beautiful one at that. She wasn't dim witted enough to think she was ugly, but she usually only wore hoodies and Quidditch related attire along with her mandatory robes.

In a fit of inspiration, she decided to wear a rather flashy necklace her mother gave her when she won the Tournament. Clarke had never dared to take it out of the box due to the fact that it was a family heirloom and she never felt the need to wear huge jewelry. Her mother had bragged that it'd been made by a very famous Goblin hundreds of years ago and had been in the Chase family since. It was made of the finest silver, and contained three large rows of tightly connected diamonds that connected to a large circular emerald in the center. The emerald was haloed by another row of diamonds.

Clarke thought about getting it appraised, just to see how much it was worth but Goblin's were typically rude when it came to passed down items that were made by other Goblins. They viewed it as stealing, believing that after the first person who bought it died or decided they did not want the item anymore, it should have been returned to the Goblins.

Her mother told her that it was a gift from Salazar Slytherin to his true love, also known as her very great grandmother.

Her relation to Salazar Slytherin was the ultimate reason her mother decorated the place with his colors, with his symbols. She was proud of her heritage, all of it. Clarke on the other hand could recognize that he was an important part of history but his viewpoints on muggle-borns and half-bloods were absolutely ridiculous and shameful. Every time her mother went on a tangent, Clarke had the urge to remind her that they were only related to him because he had an affair with their ancestor and produced an illegitimate child.

"Clarke Elizabeth, are you ready? The Minister should be here any moment!" Abby broke through her thoughts. Clarke sighed, fastening the necklace and then making her way downstairs. She was expecting some type of compliment, but her mother just looked at her hair and said "I guess that will suffice" and went back to making sure everything was to her standard.

Her mother was truly in her element once people started pouring through the doors. The serpent statues greeted each guest, requesting a passphrase before they could enter. Clarke snorted into a cup of mead when she first noticed it, thinking her mother was absolutely foolish for setting up security measures. Who on Earth would try to crash this event?

Clarke watched as the people arrived, noting that the crowd used many different methods of magical travel. People used brooms, apparition, and Clarke even noted a flying motorcycle. Her mother really needed to redefine what _small_ meant because the ballroom was filled with nearly fifty people. Clarke only recognized a handful of the guests having spotted a few Professors from her school such as the new Divination teacher, Potions Master, and Charms instructor. Their presence made her a little nervous. She hadn't ever felt the need to keep her friendships private in the walls of Hogwarts but what if one of them mentioned it to her mother? Mentioned her boyfriend? If they were friends of her mother, and she didn't know now then she probably didn't have much to worry about. She moved on to identifying the politicians that often graced the cover of the Daily Prophet. For a brief second, she thought she saw a group of people from the Undesirable list but she chalked it up to exhaustion.

Her mother ushered her around the room, forcing her to introduce herself to every person even though they were all supposed to be there for _her._ It felt artificial and wrong after the fifteenth person approached her, shaking her hand and congratulating her on achievements she didn't feel right boasting about. The Tournament was nothing to be proud of, she learned that the hard way.

 _"It's very nice to meet you Miss Griffin, we've heard so much of your success."_

 _"I am honored to meet the daughter of such a great Healer. Is that the path you're going to go after Hogwarts?"_

 _"You must be so proud of your mother."_

Abigail used her wand to ring a tiny bell, signaling the start of dinner. She didn't share any words concerning _why_ everyone was at the manor. Nothing about Clarke's birthday, nothing sappy about being a parent. Her mother seemed more concerned that people were trying to switch their name cards than anything else. "Now, now Professor Sydney, I know for a fact that you aren't _anywhere_ near the Minister." She heard Abby saying to the Potions Professor. Clarke did her best not to laugh so she wouldn't end up flunking her N.E.W.T. class.

The Minister of Magic took the seat at the head of the table, smiling fondly at Clarke as if he knew her quite well. Technically, he was her Godfather having been her father's most trusted friend for most of Jake's life. Of course, Clarke rarely saw the minister anymore unless it was in the pages of the prophet.

"What a lovely necklace." A woman that Clarke had never met before directed her fork at the heirloom. Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but struggled finding words that didn't sound like she wanted to be wearing her _other_ necklace.

Abigail cleared her throat, "It's been passed down to all the great women in my family ever since it was given to our ancestor from Salazar Slytherin, himself." She hoped people didn't think Abigail sounded as pompous as Clarke viewed her. "My mother passed it on to me after Clarke was born and after Clarke won the Triwizard Tournament, I thought it was only fitting. It's such a special event."

Inwardly, Clarke rolled her eyes. The Minister of Magic cleared his throat to get her attention. "Miss Griffin, I just wanted to congratulate you again for you win." He said as he dabbed his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "You have turned out to be a bright young witch much like I always expected you to be. If your father were here, he'd be exceptionally proud."

"Thank you, Minister." Clarke tried to be polite but the last thing she wanted to think about was The Triwizard Tournament. It's barbaric, really, the enjoyment of watching people suffer. Maybe it once something noble, but it's dreadful now. A stunt for publicity and distraction.

"I apologize for my son's absence tonight." The Minister said with a hint of aggravation. "He's been preparing for a position in the Ministry and I'm afraid he's adopted quite a bit of my flaws." Clarke watched as the man lied straight to her face, most likely unaware that Clarke and his son had maintained a healthy friendship. Even today, Wells had been at the Quidditch Pitch with her late into the afternoon, complaining about his father and how he'd moved in with their close friend, Jasper Jordan for the remainder of break.

According to Wells, they'd gotten into another fight about what Wells wanted to do with his future. It definitely wasn't becoming a Ministry worker.

With Jasper's parents on vacation in Egypt for the entire summer, the boy's house had become a hangout. From what Jasper's said, his parents really didn't mind that he had company over the summer and if Bellamy and Octavia hadn't agreed to live with him for the holiday, his parents wouldn't have left. She'd been over to Jasper's a few times, even stayed the night a couple times since the summer started. Of course, it'd been without her mother's knowledge. If she caught her only child sneaking off into the night, she would have a fit.

Especially if she knew about Jasper's unfortunate condition. Since he was about seven years old, Jasper's been a werewolf. As far as Clarke knows, there's only ever been one werewolf to attend Hogwarts before. A Gryffindor. His son finished school just a few months ago and told the tales he'd heard from his Godfather about the extremes his father's went to while they were in school.

It served as an inspiration, really.

Wells and Clarke had been the first people to figure out what was wrong with Jasper due to their constant readings, and of course the stories Teddy Lupin shared. Even when they asked Jasper, they weren't exactly _positive_ he was a werewolf but they figured that if he was dying, his parents wouldn't force him to go to school. When they asked Jasper, he was so relieved that other people knew his secret that he almost cried. Still, at twelve years old they didn't have a clue what to do with the information and even Teddy had said that it took his father's friends _years_ to become other animals.

Eventually, they figured it out and now every full moon they're known to run around like fools.

Under the gaze of her mother and The Minister, Clarke felt the need to lie. "Wells has always been a hard worker. If it weren't for his encouragement, I would have been completely lost our first year." This got a "wholesome" chuckle from the people that were listening to their conversation. The Minister seemed quite pleased that Clarke chose to compliment his son's wit in front of the group of people.

Clarke did find it a little odd that he wanted to impress them. He was the Minister of Magic for crying out loud.

"Still, he should be here on such a special night. Especially since his birthday is in two days. It would save us all so much trouble." The Minister said calmly as if Clarke was supposed to know exactly what he was implying.. Clarke found it a bit rude that he was suggesting that Wells could have piggy backed off this birthday celebration as if his son didn't deserve one for himself, no matter how ridiculous this one happened to be. "Oh, no dear I'm not trying to upstage your event with my son's, I'm just saying that—well, Abigail I think it's about time you explain to Clarke why we've all gathered."

"Ah, yes." Her mother smiled brightly at the Minister and Clarke felt sick to her stomach. It was the kind of smile only a person shares with someone they fancy. Clarke started spinning scenarios in her head that involved her mother and her Godfather coming out as a couple at her birthday event. "Clarke, tonight isn't just about celebrating your seventeenth birthday although it is such an important milestone in a young witch's life." Clarke had to hold back a laugh because her mother sounded so unusual. Abigail hadn't even wished her Happy Birthday prior to the guests coming. She's not even sure the people at the table actually understood that her birthday was today. "Tonight's dinner is about your options going forward. You can legally do magic now, you no longer carry the trace. It's high time we talk about your future."

"I already had that conversation with my Head of House…" She thanked God her Head of House wasn't at the party tonight. "I'm sorry, I'm quite confused."

"Well, this is a bit different, you see. I'm not talking about your career goals, so much as what type of witch you are going to be. For instance, some witches are part of the judicial system or oversee the making of textbooks. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Abigail was still using her fake maternal voice. It was like honey, but reminded her of a python slithering closer and closer.. "All the people in this room are part of a very _selective_ group of powerful witches and wizards." There was a hint of pride in her tone. "And we would like you to be part of this group. I might add that it's quite an honor to be invited so young. The only other person to receive an invitation at your age will be Wells. "

The Minister nodded, a wide smile breaking across his face. "Yes, you have both accomplished way more than we ever imagined you could in such a short time. You've excelled beyond any parent's dream and we want to reward you." Clarke never trusts people that feel the need to stroke her ego as a tactic. "We would be immensely proud if you joined."

"So, is it like a leadership group?" Clarke questioned, her instincts telling her that it didn't make sense for some of the people to be here if it was about leadership.

"In a way, I guess you could say that it's similar to a leadership group." Abigail began, choosing her words very carefully. It put Clarke on alert. "This involves many different concepts but ultimately people like us believe the wizarding world needs order, needs change. Our group values the tradition our ancestor's started. There are far too many things going on that have been pushed by the agendas of previous Headmasters and crooked politicians." Abigail sighed as she watched her daughter process the information. Clarke looked stricken, like someone had just jinxed her. "There's a bit of a muggle problem, dear, as you know and these _new breeds_ are causing trouble for the wizarding community. Giants, Centaurs, Werewolves, the likes. We aim to solve it."

She felt her heart sink to her stomach. Her mother kept talking but Clarke wasn't in the right state of mind to listen to her. _What?_

The Minister of Magic was still smiling and it made her sick. "As the next generations come of age, I expect you to help promote our values. As pure bloods, our rights have been diminished to accommodate people that do not deserve it. It's that simple. You're a prestigious and high regarded students, and you'll be extremely useful to our cause in the future. And maybe one day, you can live up to your mother's hard work as a Healer. Her methods of discrete sterilization have been great for the cause."

Clarke now fully faced her mother, an expression of horror etched across her features. "Sterilization?" Clarke realized that she was in a room filled with people that believed in blood purity and _status._ If she were to speak out in that moment, she most definitely wouldn't be safe. They would probably kill her. _I've seen all of their faces._

Her mother seemed to recognize the pure conflict on her daughter's face. She also seemed to be the only one at the table as people smiled at her. The Minister continued with his speech of endorsement until Clarke cleared her throat, cutting him off. He looked shocked, "I apologize Minister. I just need to go to the loo and I just can't seem to hold it any longer. Do you mind?" Some of the guests laughed, and Professor Sydney rolled her eyes. The Minister was taken aback but clearly confident that she wasn't planning on doing anything insane. Clarke quickly rushed out of the ballroom, making sure the doors were well shut behind her.

Her mind was in panic mode. _Run, run, run, run…_ her body kept telling her it was the only option. Quickly, she did the only thing she could think to do. "Yani." She summoned the Elf in a hushed whisper.

There was a faint pop and the elf was by her side, looking at her with a million questions. Clarke didn't have time to explain anything and tried to convey that with the a serious gleam in her eyes. "We have to leave. Right now. Pack your things, and gather my trunk but leave the owl. She's more loyal to my mother. Uh, grab anything else that you can get to quick, and my necklace. Please, grab my necklace. I can stall my mother just for a few moments but we have to be quick. Meet me at the Jordan estate and make sure Morrow doesn't follow you."

"Yes, Mistress." Yani nodded and snapped her fingers. Seconds after the Elf vanished, Abigail entered the hallway, obviously looking for Clarke or planning to pull her aside before she walked back in.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked her in a serious tone, hands finding her hips. "You have guests, it's no time for you to be daydreaming in the hallway."

Clarke laughed mostly because she couldn't help herself. It was a horrible habit of hers. In front of her stood a woman that had devoted her life to healing people and married an Auror for crying out loud. Never once had Clarke suspected that she'd be so far into a hate group that the Minister of Magic was comparing speech notes with her. "Don't embarrass me, Clarke." Her mother warned, "For once in your life, don't embarrass me because you're being selfish."

It took Clarke almost a full minute to form any type of words, "Embarrass you?" Clarke asked, incredulous that her mother would even go there. "How on Earth could I ever embarrass _you?"_

"I don't want to get into that right now. Let's go back into the ballroom and discuss our group." Abigail pulled her arm, trying to bring her back into the ballroom by force. Clarke stood her ground and gave her mother a look that was full of contempt.

"Let me ask you, mother, what do you call yourselves?"

Abigail looked lost for words, "We've had many names over the past century, Clarke. Now stop being idiotic and let's get back to our guests. I can answer your foolish questions inside." It took everything in her not to slap her mother.

"Would one of those names be Death Eaters?" Clarke pulled herself away from her mother's grip. By the look on her mother's face, the answer was absolutely yes. "How long have you been part of this? Was dad in it?"

"I joined after your father died. My parents were Death Eaters. Loyal. They understood what we were fighting for. Of course, they didn't know they were related to the Dark Lord himself, but they were loyal all the same." Her mother sighed, "Your father didn't know. He was very outspoken about Voldemort's ideals. He hated them. But don't you see, he was wrong Clarke...in the end, he was."

"How could you betray him like this? Betray the Headmaster, for that matter. Last I checked, Marcus Kane was a friend."

"Marcus Kane is a fool." Abigail said with a scoff, "He believes in the legacy Albus Dumbledore left behind, you see." She tried to reach for Clarke again, "I'm not betraying your father, Clarke. He was killed by a muggle. That must mean something to you deep down, dear. I know that you've been struggling since the tournament but this will give you the structure and the push you need to become the witch I know you can be."

"You're wrong, mom." Clarke felt the desperation in her own voice. She wished this was just a sick joke but it was obvious her mother believed every word coming from her mouth. "I'm declining your invitation. I refuse to be part of your hate group." Abby's hands barely touched Clarke before Clarke jumped away from her. She gave her mother one last look, one last chance to drop the act but it didn't happen. Clarke found herself running out the front door as fast as she could, hands fumbling to pick up the edges of her dress, blindly reaching for her wand. Clarke was wearing a leg holster that she bought in Hogsmeade the year before. She'd read an entry in _Auror Accounts_ by a deceased Auror, that went by the nickname Mad-Eye, one should never put their wand in their back pocket or anywhere near parts they would miss if blown off.

She found it weird that she thought of something so trivial as she ran from her home. In unison, the snake statues her mother recently bought started screeching, " _She's getting away, she's getting away!"_ Distantly, she heard the ballroom doors slamming and people yelling. The only thing Clarke could think was _fuck._

She knew it was useless to look behind her but she couldn't help it. Sparing a glance, she found the motivation to run a little faster. There were at least fifteen people running towards her at full speed. She knew she couldn't stop to take off her heels, but damn she wanted to do it. They were slowing her down. Her entire outfit was slowing her down.

The temperature had dropped and the wind was quite chilly against her bare arms so when a hand was on the precept of grabbing her, she could feel the person's body heat and their hot breath against the back of her head. She skirted out of the person's grasp, sending a particularly powerful spell his way so he wouldn't be able to catch up again. The rest of the crowd was uncomfortably close.

"It's now or never." She told herself before she closed her eyes and apparated. It wasn't the first time she's done it. Her father used to strictly travel by apparition or through muggle methods. Her mind went back to a few lessons from class: _Destination, Determination, Deliberation._ It was her plan to take the test tomorrow and get her license. Something told her that she was going to have to postpone.

Clarke couldn't go to the Jordan home just yet. She thought of a place she'd been to once, it held little meaning to her. It was merely by accident that she stumbled upon it in the first place. But, if she were followed they would question _why_ she went there first. At least, that's what she hoped. She only let her feet touch the ground for a second before she found herself in the middle of a large open field. It was a picture she'd seen in a magazine and even she had no idea where _exactly_ she happened to be.

She allowed herself to catch her breath, but moved again. This time, she went somewhere familiar. It was a trap. She went to her old home, and for a second she saw the overgrown vines and the ugliness that had taken over the place. It looked like a living representation of grief. The sob she'd been holding back tried to break through but she moved again.

She ended up on the coast. It was a place her mother wasn't aware of her spending any time at but she cursed herself for even thinking of the place. The ocean waves were crashing against the rocks, beating them all to hell in an endless fight. Clarke took a deep breath of the salty air and vanished.

Clarke envisioned the illusion that was the Jordan home. It looked like an old cottage that had seen better days. The windows were broken and it didn't seem to have any electricity. The Jordan's didn't care for unwanted company on account of their son being a _werewolf._ The entire home was underground, spelled to have false windows and filtered air. It was a beautiful home, or as Monty referred to it, a prototype for future living. Jasper's dad was an inventor for the Ministry, and a damn good one although he's never been promoted. Clarke thinks that Jasper's father has declined because he did not want the attention on his family.

The Jordan's were quite sweet. His mother was a tiny woman, obsessed with muggle food and surprisingly, Pinterest although Jasper had to frequently help her with the desktop computer.

For a few breaths, she thought she was dead. The swirling black never seemed to end but her head felt like it was splitting in two so she assumed she was still very much alive. Clarke landed on dewy grass, the wetness soaking through the fabric at her knees. It only took her half a second to dismiss that observation. Her body suddenly felt like it was ripping apart, like she'd pulled every muscle in her body.

She let out an awful scream before the world went black again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oi, don't worry mate, she'll love whatever _that_ happens to be." Bellamy Blake rolled his eyes at his best friend's semi-supportive words. The close-knit group of five boys were crossing through tall fields, soaking in what was left of their limited summer holiday. He didn't know what to expect but he imagined the whole term would be as bittersweet as this last summer had been. This was their last chance to be normal teenagers before the real world hit them and for the last few weeks, they'd been taking advantage of every moment. It'd been nothing but Quidditch, games, and adventures since they stepped off the Hogwarts Express. Plus, there was quite a bit of romance brewing in the air lately.

Miller was thinking of giving his long-term boyfriend, Bryan, a promise ring. Jasper was sending letters back and forth to a girl he'd met during the tournament last year. Bellamy and his girlfriend Clarke were genuinely enjoying each other's time. It was all very euphoric and put everyone in this grand mood.

"Even if it is bloody hideous?" Jasper Jordan snorted from beside him, eyes finding the white Persian cat. Every time Jasper looked at the poor beastie, it started flicking it's tail back and forth like a psychopath. "Why did you have to buy her a cat? _You_ don't even like cats."

"I love cats." Bellamy smirked which caused their friend Wells to roll his eyes. Wells was always more reserved than the rest of the group, preferring to stay silent than contribute to the conversation. He was a great complementary person to the loud and sometimes obnoxious attitudes of the entire group, which had grown to be quite large over the six years that they've known each other.

"You love Clarke, that doesn't count as loving cats." Monty Greene, Jasper's best friend since birth, pointed out. Monty was another quiet friend but his adventurous and sometimes dangerous friendship with Jasper put him in an entirely different category. "Just because she tends to change into a fluffy little kitty every once in a while, does not make you a cat person."

Miller nodded along with every word Monty said, "Like always, an excellent point Monty." Even in the dark, Bellamy thought he saw Monty blush. Miller ought to know not to flirt with him like that but Bellamy figures Miller can't really control it, just like Bellamy couldn't control his feelings for Clarke when he dated Gina, a Hufflepuff seventh year.

"Regardless, Clarke loves cats. She's always wanted a cat, but her mother never let her have one. She's seventeen now and she's not planning to move back to the manor after we graduate this year—" Bellamy realized that it was the first time he was mentioning their plans for _after_ Hogwarts. Everyone assumed that Bellamy and Clarke would eventually move in together, but it was never really confirmed until that moment. All his friends looked at him, all wearing variations of the same teasing expression.

"Ah, so you two are looking to move in together." Miller said in a drawn out voice, as if he were a reporter trying to lure a person into making a shocking confession for the Daily Prophet. "Did you think buying her a cat would force her to move out of the manor?"

If it weren't Miller asking the question, he probably would have lashed out. But, because it was Miller and he knew that Bellamy had strong fears about whether Clarke would leave him after she got a taste of the real world, he let it slide. As much as he tried to overlook Clarke's obvious privileges in life, he couldn't totally forget them. There was a good chance she would realize he wasn't worth anything and move onto another person as soon as the first set of bills came in. He knew that she wasn't like that, but people change, and Clarke's never been outside of the control of her mother before.

Bellamy sighed, "It's not that I'm trying to bribe her into making a decision. But, yeah, in a way I kind of think that this will give her some motivation to make the ultimate decision. I've tried to get her to look at little flatts here and there, but she hasn't shown much interest."

Wells, who was admittedly closer to Clarke than anyone, cleared his throat, "I don't think it's that she doesn't want to move in with you if that's what you're worried about. I just think she's having a lot harder of a time with the tournament than she's been letting on." Bellamy looked at him, wondering if he'd been blind to how Clarke's been dealing with it all. Maybe Wells saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes, so he continued to talk, "I think she just wants to spare everyone from the details of it all, you know?"

"I guess." Bellamy sighed again, "I'm not trying to rush things along I just don't want to get in the position where we graduate and we're working so much that we just fall apart."

Miller and Monty seemed to be having a private conversation with just looks and Bellamy tried to ignore it. Jasper spoke up, lightening the mood, "I just want to know why you didn't buy her that cute kitten. Clarke would have loved it. Women melt for little kittens."

"Clarke would have been upset if she found out that I left this little beastie behind for a _kitten._ Plus, the store owner said that this ol' boy has been in there for almost a year without any prospects." Bellamy seemed quite proud in his decision to get her an older cat.

Miller fake coughed, pointedly staring at the hissing cat. "Three guesses why."

The group of boys were about a mile away from Jasper's house, having been dropped off about thirty minutes ago by the Knight Bus on the edge of the Jordan property. Jasper's parents lived away from civilization because of their son's condition. Bellamy, who had grown up in the poorer parts of London, actually preferred the countryside. There was plenty of room to run and ride brooms and avoid the muggle eye.

"Eh, what is that?" Jasper pointed in the direction whitish blue figment _flying_ their way. The second Jasper brought everyone's attention to it, Bellamy knew it was someone's Patronus in corporeal form. He also knew that something must be terribly wrong. His heart started beating irregularly, adrenaline pulsing through his system. He just _knew_ something wasn't right.

"Isn't that Raven's Patronus?" Wells asked, the same worry in his voice. Raven's Patronus was a raven. They'd seen it a couple times in class the year before so it made sense that Wells would recognize it.

The raven fluttered in front of them, opening it's mouth. Raven's voice was distressed, her words coming out in tearful pants. It was alarming because they'd never heard Raven cry. " _Hurry back, something's wrong with Clarke!"_ Bellamy's blood ran ice cold and he quickly shoved the box in Monty's hands and took off running at full speed towards the house. He could hear Miller running behind him until they were side by side.

He paused at the door, for only a second. It was fears doing.

"Raven?" He yelled, eyes roaming around the living area of the house. "Octavia?" He called for his little sister, the worry seeping into every word. He was pretty sure he was shaking, his gut telling him that things were bad. Very bad.

He started down the hallway when he ran straight into Raven. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she let out a small scream when she collided with Bellamy. "I-I didn't expect you to get here so fast."

"Where's Clarke?" He said, avoiding Raven's awkward small talk. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

Raven looked down at her feet before she responded, and Bellamy found himself becoming increasingly impatient with the girl who was usually so confident. "Octavia and I were just looking over what homework we had to do before the start of term when we heard someone apparate into the yard and we thought it might have been one of you, but then we heard this god-awful scream. We found Clarke collapsed in the front yard and at first we thought she splinched herself but there was no damage. We carried her inside and we were about to call her mother when Yani showed up and said that Clarke was in danger and her mother was in on it." Raven hardly breathed the entire time she spoke, "Octavia sent her Patronus to someone to get help. Someone who knows about healing. Clarke hasn't woken up yet, Bellamy and her pulse is really weak."

There was a moment that he couldn't remember if he was dreaming or not. Raven's words seemed to be as muffled as they would be if she were standing on the other side of a tunnel as a train rode through. He found that he didn't know how to react: should he be angry? Should he be sobbing right now? Should he be tracking down whoever caused this? He didn't know what to do. All he could feel was the moment.

The air conditioning blasting through the house, the smell of the cleaning solution Jasper's mom made them promise to use when tidying up the house. He could focus on the little details around him. The moving pictures on the wall, the long hallway of doors that led to different rooms and storage areas throughout the house. It was like he was third-party observer rather than a person who just found out the person he loved his seriously injured.

Raven watched him, concern etched across her already broken face. When she started to move towards the back of the house, he followed but did not know if it was a conscious thought to do so or if he was purely running off of instinct at that point. He left Miller in the living room although he was wholly unaware of doing it. Raven waited for him to reach the last door on the right, and she even let him walk in first.

As soon as he saw her, he felt the urge to cry.

Even in the state she was in, Clarke was absolutely stunning. She was wearing a formal dress he'd never seen before, and a necklace that didn't look anything like what she would wear. Her skin was unnaturally pale and if he couldn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought she was dead.

The notion that she looked near death caused him to swallow hard and take an apprehensive step forward. He wanted to know if her skin felt as cold as it appeared. Bellamy was stopped in his tracks when his sister walked out of the conjoined bathroom with a wet wash rag and a bowl of water.

He imagined Octavia didn't want to feel useless although Clarke's condition was probably just as much a mystery to her as it was to him. If he knew the _details,_ he could probably understand. He could probably help. In the back of his mind, he remembered that Raven said they had called for help.

 _Help is coming,_ he thought to himself but it did not ease up the war inside of him.

In the distance, he could hear the door of the house slamming against the wall as the rest of the boys arrived. He could their questions, all variations of " _what's wrong with Clarke?"_ He listened to Miller explain, and then he listened to Miller tell them to stay in the living area. He was grateful for it.

Bellamy was always considered the unofficial leader of the group and he would hate for them to see him so frozen. He was truly at a loss and he knew that whatever expression was on his face, it was a lie. Inside, he was breaking apart. His mind was a cluster of different scenarios and questions. The one thing he knew was that the longer they waited, the worse she was getting. Her breathing was getting slower and he knew the whole room was aware of it.

Raven was the first to snap, "Who did you summon, Octavia? Professor Nyko?" The brunette had taken to tapping her foot impatiently. Bellamy knew Raven well enough to know that she was only a few seconds away from nervous pacing.

Octavia released a shaky breath and shook her head. "No, I don't know where Nyko is during the holidays. I called someone else, someone that's working as a Healer at St. Mungo's." Raven gave Octavia a look but Octavia was way ahead of Raven's concerns. "I trust this person. They won't tell Mrs. Griffin, Clarke will be safe."

If Raven had something else to say, she let it go.

After another minute, there was some loud banging from the front of the house and a few curses. He could hear the boys yelling.

" _What in the bloody hell are you doing here?"_ (Miller)

" _What the fuck?"_ (Jasper)

" _I ought to hex you right now."_ (Miller, again.)

Octavia bolted from her position by Clarke and ran to the front of the house. He could hear her yelling, "Let him in, let him in! He's here to help Clarke!" Despite her yells, he thought he heard Miller growling. Whoever their guest was, Bellamy could hear his sister filling them in on the situation. He was shocked when Octavia walked in with no other than Lincoln Woods, a champion that participated in the Triwizard Tournament the year prior. After the second trial, Bellamy heard rumors that Lincoln was going to be a healer. He just never figured that he would be the first call his sister made in an emergency.

He stored that bit of information away for later, his main focus being on Clarke. Raven on the other hand gaped at Octavia, "This is who you called?"

"Raven, he knows what he's doing."

"He's a novice!" Raven yelled, "We need someone experienced."

"Well, given the conditions this was our only safe bet." Octavia glared at her, "And you know that he's good with spells and healing."

Raven let it go.

Lincoln walked over to Clarke, alarm in his eyes. Apparently Octavia hadn't told him just how bad things actually were. "What happened?" He asked in his thick Hungarian accent. When he raised a hand so he could feel Clarke's forehead, Bellamy let out a small growl. "I'm just here to help, let me help."

"Um, well, all we know is she apparated here like I said in the hallway." Octavia was shifting her weight uncomfortably. "We don't know much more."

Lincoln pulled out his wand although Bellamy knew that there wasn't any point if he didn't know what the problem was, yet. "Apparition can be tricky. Do you know if she did it more than once?" He said in a voice that reminded him of Professor Nyko's when Bellamy fell off his broom during third year.

Raven stepped forward, sensing that Octavia was about to start crying. Bellamy knew it was probably out of frustration, than out of pure sadness. Octavia wanted to help because she loved Clarke, saw her as an older sister. "Her house elf, Yani, said she was running-that she was being chased. I'm willing to bet that she didn't just pop up here without making sure it would be safe first."

It was pure guesswork, of course. Raven didn't have a clue what happened but she did know Clarke fairly well. They all knew Clarke. They all knew that she was smart, and brave, and she would risk herself in order to keep them safe even if she was the one that was on the run. Bellamy was willing to bet that Clarke had reached her limits with apparition and this was the result.

Lincoln seemed to believe the same thing. Bellamy recognized that Lincoln probably had a healthy insight to Clarke, too. They'd competed over the course of ten months and he knows that Clarke did extensive research into Lincoln during the tournament before the first task. Bellamy watched as Lincoln nodded, trying to solve the problem in his head. "It's not going to be an easy fix under these circumstances. It's going to be painful for her. But, if everything goes smoothly, she should be completely healed within a day." He paused, "If this takes a turn for the worse, I'll have no choice than to bring her into St. Mungo's, you understand?"

He was looking at Octavia, who nodded slowly. Bellamy could see the disapproval in Raven's eyes and wondered if his reflected the same. There was no way that they could take her to St. Mungo's.

Lincoln raised his wand but seemed to think better of something and turned to them again, "I need everyone to leave the room. This will be hard enough as it is."

Bellamy wanted to fight. He really did. But, he couldn't so he found himself walking out the room with Octavia and Raven, terrified that it would be the last time he ever saw Clarke alive. He could hear Lincoln casting spells by the time he sat in the living room with the others. Everyone was pale face and tense.

"She's going to be okay." Octavia tried to say but it fell flat.

An extremely loud pop made everyone jump. At first, he thought Lincoln had left but then he noticed Clarke's house elf. Yani was older, but not so old that she could barely move. Under normal circumstances, she was generally quite friendly but she looked absolutely fearful at the moment.

"Yani did as Mistress Clarke told her to do." Yani announced to the room, holding a small gold key in her hand. "Is Mistress awake?"

Everyone shook their heads but Bellamy was leaning forward, looking at Yani. "What happened at Chase Manor, Yani? Why was Clarke running?"

"Did they find out she was an Animagus?" Jasper asked and Bellamy knew that he was probably worried that Clarke was injured because she wanted to help him.

Yani shook her head, "No, no Mistress's secret is safe. It is much worse, much worse. Yani listened to Mistress Clarke's guests. Mistress Clarke's guests were not nice. Mistress left dinner and summoned Yani, told Yani to get Yani's belongings and Mistress's belongings and meet her at Jasper Jordan's home. Mistress was scared." The House Elf started crying, "Yani heard Yani's old Mistress talking with Mistress Clarke's guest. Old Mistress was angry. Guests called Mistress Clarke a-" Yani paused, and whispered the word. " _Blood-traitor."_

"A blood-traitor?" Octavia questioned, looking around the room at all the grim faces.

Wells was the one that answered her. "There are some families...families like mine and Clarke's that once believed that blood purity is the only option. When someone sides with muggle-borns, or muggles, or has a relationship with them, they're labeled a blood-traitor." But then he spoke quickly, "Yani, you must have misheard though because Mrs. Griffin is not prejudice like that. I mean she's always had a bit of a stigma problem...but never so blatant. And my father was there tonight. He's the Minister of Magic for crying out loud."

"Yes, Yani saw the Minister of Magic. He was most angry."

"What?" Wells asked, his voice significantly quieter than before. "My father called Clarke a blood-traitor?"

"Minster sent people after Mistress Clarke. Minister said bring her back alive." Yani was still crying, "Mistress is not safe!"

Just then, a blood curdling scream broke through the house. Everyone looked towards the back of the house in horror. Octavia gasped and put a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from breaking out in a sob.

It was the worst sound that Bellamy had ever heard.

Until she screamed again, louder this time. "What the fuck is he doing to her?" Miller asked, standing up quickly. Monty put his hand around Miller's wrist, shaking his head. Miller looked down at Monty, clearly confused.

Clarke screamed again, this time forming words. " _Please stop, please stop, STOP!"_

This time, Bellamy jerked up with a growl. Raven and Octavia grabbed his arms and shoved him back down in the chair he was sitting in. Octavia was breathed heavily, "There's nothing he can do for her when it comes to pain. If she's lucky, she'll just pass out again!" It sounded harsh but Bellamy knew she was right. "At least she's awake. It means it's working."

Her words weren't much comfort as they listened to Clarke sob in ways that Bellamy had never heard her before. He didn't realize it at first until he let out a shaky breath, but he was crying. The tears were streaming down his face.

The unnamed Persian cat was making odd sounds that Bellamy had never heard a cat make before every time Clarke screamed. The cat just reminded him that this wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

For the next twenty minutes, they listened to her scream and cry as Lincoln started saying his spells louder. Miller had taken to pacing around the kitchen and biting his nails, a habit Bellamy vaguely remembered him breaking during third year. After the first five minutes of Clarke screaming, Bellamy focused on something else:

 _Anger._

There were still a lot of pieces to fill in about what happened at Chase Manor but from what he could understand, the Minister was a bigot and Clarke's mother was the reason why Clarke was suffering in the back of the house. He vowed that they weren't going to get away with what they forced Clarke to do to herself.

It was well into the night by the time Lincoln emerged from the back room. Even though his face was composed, Bellamy saw the shaking of his hands. "I, uh, I'll be contacting Nyko and letting him know the situation so Clarke can get the potions she needs to continue healing. There was extensive organ damage. If she'd apparated one more time, she would have died instantly. She got lucky tonight."

"Lucky?" Miller stopped pacing, "You call this lucky?"

"Well, considering the alternative, yes, I do." Lincoln said, "If it's okay with everyone, I would like to stay for the night. I'm exhausted and in case something happens with Clarke, it would be wise for me to be here."

Everyone turned to Jasper, who seemed extremely intimidated by Lincoln. "Uh, yeah, sure. Find an empty room. There are plenty of them." Jasper turned to the sobbing House Elf, "And, Yani, you can find a room as well."

Raven made an odd noise, "I think we all need to get some rest. We have two days left until the start of term now and we can't do anything for her tonight."

Bellamy nodded and stood up as if he were going to go to his room but instead his feet guided him to the back of the house. Clarke still looked pale but her breathing was already stronger. He sat in the chair that Octavia had been sitting in earlier and brushed the hair away from her face. His friends must have been giving him privacy, because he could hear the doors shutting down the hall as people went to bed.

He put his head just below her chest, listening to her breathe until he dozed off.


End file.
